His brow furrowed. "You look pale."
"I am tired, my lord."
"When we are finished, you are to return to our chamber to rest. Parliament will meet again and I must attend."
She gave a nod, once more focusing her attention below. The crowd jeered the prisoner, yet the taunts seemed not to dim his spirit. One of the guards yanked on his arm, leading him to the waiting noose. A hanging then. It would be over soon and she could rest, as her husband wished. Then the executioner began to speak, forcing her to focus on what was happening before her.
"For such despicable crimes, you are to be drawn and quartered!"
Gasps and murmurings, shouts and applause, came from the crowd. Such a brutal sentence hadn't been passed in many years. She met Royce's gaze. Had he known of this? Why hadn't he warned her?
She looked past her husband to the king. Edward wore a pleased smile. A shiver passed over her. If he hadn't been convinced of her innocence in the uprising, she feared what could have happened.
She squeezed Royce's hand for support.
***
The force of Gillian's grip nearly crushed Royce's fingers. He watched her closely, still displeased at the lack of color in her cheeks. She looked ready to swoon. He motioned to Burnell. The chancellor approached, his face etched with concern. "Panther, is your wife ill?"
"She is unused to such things as this." He absently waved his hand at the crowd. "Perhaps some ale will helpsettle her."
Burnell nodded and motioned to a nearby attendant. Within moments, he handed Royce a cup. As he held it to his wife's lips, Royce's gaze met hers. Her eyes were bright with unshed tears and her lips trembled slightly as she sipped the ale. Jesu, she could wound him so deeply with just a look! How he wished he could take her away from here.
He looked away, sensing Edward's gaze on him. Gillian's hand had resumed its death grip on his. He pulled his fingers free and covered her hand, trying to soothe her with soft caresses.
"Is anything amiss, Panther?" Edward asked.
"Nay, Sire. Gillian is merely tired."
At the king's nod, he turned back to his wife. She sipped the ale slowly. He noted how her gaze moved everywhere within the meadow, except to the scaffold below.
With a deep breath, he focused his attention on the execution. Though he was glad the traitor was getting the justice due him, he disliked Edward's punishment. The death was slow and painful, and difficult to watch.
"My lord, I..."
He covered her mouth with his fingers. "Give none cause to think you bear sympathy for this outlaw. Rumor has already harmed you before."
Her eyes sparked at the reminder. "Thank you for believing they lied. If you hadn't..."
"It's behind us, and now is the perfect time to ensure none ever doubt you again. Difficult as it may be, you must appear to be pleased with the... this."
"It won't be easy."
He shook his head. "Nay. Not for any of us."
The warmth of the autumn sun grew as Dafydd was publicly tortured. Not once did he utter a sound, accepting his punishment in stony silence, not responding to the executioner's or the crowd's taunts and verbal jibes. Throughout it all, Gillian inched slowly closer to Royceuntil she leaned into him. Her wide eyes and trembling gave away her distress. He wondered if he'd ever be able to pry her fingers from his.
The crowd's yells and murmurings grew quieter as Dafydd was lifted to a cross-shaped table on the gallows, his ankles and wrists bound firmly. He heaved against the ropes binding him, but could not free himself. The final part of the execution was moments away.
As the executioner approached the prisoner, hot poker in hand, Gillian turned her face into his chest. He did not force her to watch, but she turned back once, just as Dafydd gave a scream that curled the hairs on the nape of his neck. Royce heard her moan and looked down at her. Her eyes widened before she sagged limply against him in a faint.
She almost slipped from her chair before he caught her. Someone pressed a cloth doused in vinegar into his hand and he held it under her nose. She stirred and pushed his hand away. Her eyes slowly opened, their violet depths filled with horror.
"Is it over?"
"Almost." He helped her back into the chair. She shook wildly, and he slid his arm around her, holding her near. She buried her face against his shoulder. He held her, stroking her hair softly. Every time Dafydd screamed his agony, she jerked as though she could feel the traitor's pain. Edward glanced over at her from time to time but thankfully said nothing.
"'Tis almost over, Wildcat." Royce murmured the words against her ear. "Soon we'll return to our chamber."
